A FIGHT FOR LIBERTY
1830-1832
Lord Grey and the cause of Reform--Lord Durham's share in the
Reform Bill--The voice of the people--Lord John introduces the Bill
and explains its provisions--The surprise of the Tories--'Reform,
Aye or No'--Lord John in the Cabinet--The Bill thrown out--The
indignation of the country--Proposed creation of Peers--Wellington
and Sidmouth in despair--The Bill carried--Lord John's tribute to
Althorp.
EARL GREY was a man of sixty-six when he was called to power, and during
the whole of his public career he had been identified with the cause of
Reform. He, more than any other man, was the founder, in 1792--the year
in which Lord John Russell was born--of 'The Friends of the People,' a
political association which united the forces of the patriotic societies
which just then were struggling into existence in various parts of the
land. He was the foe of Pitt and the friend of Fox, and his official
career began during the short-lived but glorious Administration of All
the Talents. During the dreary quarter of a century which succeeded,
when the destinies of England were committed to men of despotic calibre
and narrow capacity like Sidmouth, Liverpool, Eldon, and Castlereagh, he
remained, through good and evil report, in deed as well as in name, a
Friend of the People. As far back as 1793, he declared: 'I am more
convinced than ever that a reform in Parliament might now be peaceably
effected. I am afraid that we are not wise enough to profit by
experience, and what has occasioned the ruin of other Governments will
overthrow this--a perseverance in abuse until the people, maddened by
excessive injury and roused to a feeling of their own strength, will not
stop within the limits of moderate reformation.' The conduct of
Ministers during the dark period which followed the fall of the Ministry
of All the Talents in 1807, was, in Grey's deliberate opinion,
calculated to excite insurrection, since it was a policy of relentless
coercion and repression.
He made no secret of his conviction that the Government, by issuing
proclamations in which whole classes of the community were denounced as
seditious, as well as by fulminating against insurrections that only
existed in their own guilty imaginations, filled the minds of the people
with false alarms, and taught every man to distrust if not to hate his
neighbour. There was no more chance of Reform under the existing
_regime_ than of 'a thaw in Zembla,' to borrow a famous simile. Cobbett
was right in his assertion that the measures and manners of George IV.'s
reign did more to shake the long-settled ideas of the people in favour
of monarchical government than anything which had happened since the
days of Cromwell. The day of the King's funeral--it was early in July
and beautifully fine--was marked, of course, by official signs of
mourning, but the rank and file of the people rejoiced, and, according
to a contemporary record, the merry-making and junketing in the villages
round London recalled the scenes of an ordinary Whit Monday.
On the whole, the nation accepted the accession of the Sailor King with
equanimity, though scarcely with enthusiasm, and for the moment it was
not thought that the new reign would bring an immediate change of
Ministry. The dull, uncompromising nonsense, however, which Wellington
put into the King's lips in the Speech from the Throne at the beginning
of November, threatening with punishment the seditious and disaffected,
followed as it quickly was by the Duke's own statement in answer to Lord
Grey, that no measure of Parliamentary reform should be proposed by the
Government as long as he was responsible for its policy, awoke the storm
which drove the Tories from power and compelled the King to send for
Grey. The distress in the country was universal--riots prevailed,
rick-burning was common. Lord Grey's prediction of 1793 seemed about to
be fulfilled, for the people, 'maddened by excessive injury and roused
to a feeling of their own strength,' seemed about to break the traces
and to take the bit between their teeth. The deep and widespread
confidence alike in the character and capacity of Lord Grey did more
than anything else at that moment to calm the public mind and to turn
wild clamour into quiet and resistless enthusiasm.
[Sidenote: LORD GREY AS LEADER]
Yet in certain respects Lord Grey was out of touch with the new spirit
of the nation. If his own political ardour had not cooled, the lapse of
years had not widened to any perceptible degree his vision of the issues
at stake. He was a man of stately manners and fastidious tastes, and,
though admirably qualified to hold the position of leader of the
aristocratic Whigs, he had little in common with the toiling masses of
the people. He was a conscientious and even chivalrous statesman, but he
held himself too much aloof from the rank and file of his party, and
thin-skinned Radicals were inclined to think him somewhat cold and even
condescending. Lord Grey lacked the warm heart of Fox, and his speeches,
in consequence, able and philosophic though they were, were destitute
of that unpremeditated and magical eloquence which led Grattan to
describe Fox's oratory as 'rolling in, resistless as the waves of the
Atlantic.' On one memorable occasion--the second reading of the Reform
Bill in the House of Lords--Lord Grey entirely escaped from such
oratorical restraints, and even the Peers were moved to unwonted
enthusiasm by the strong emotion which pervaded that singularly
outspoken appeal.
His son-in-law, Lord Durham, on the other hand, had the making of a
great popular leader, in spite of his imperious manners and somewhat
dictatorial bearing. The head of one of the oldest families in the North
of England, Lord Durham entered the House of Commons in the year 1813,
at the age of twenty-one, as Mr. John George Lambton, and quickly
distinguished himself by his advanced views on questions of foreign
policy as well as Parliamentary reform. He married the daughter of Lord
Grey in 1816, and gave his support in Parliament to Canning. On the
formation of his father-in-law's Cabinet in 1830, he was appointed Lord
Privy Seal. His popular sobriquet, 'Radical Jack,' itself attests the
admiration of the populace, and when Lambton was raised to the peerage
in 1828 he carried to the House of Lords the enthusiastic homage as well
as the great expectations of the crowd. Lord Durham was the idol of the
Radicals, and his presence in the Grey Administration was justly
regarded as a pledge of energetic action.
He would unquestionably have had the honour of introducing the Reform
Bill in the House of Commons if he had still been a member of that
assembly, for he had made the question peculiarly his own, and behind
him lay the enthusiasm of the entire party of Reform. Althorp, though
leader of the House, and in spite of the confidence which his character
inspired, lacked the power of initiative and the Parliamentary courage
necessary to steer the Ship of State through such rough waters. When
Lord Grey proposed to entrust the measure to Lord John, Brougham pushed
the claims of Althorp, and raised objections to Lord John on the ground
that the young Paymaster-General was not in the Cabinet; but Durham
stoutly opposed him, and urged that Lord John had the first claim, since
he had last been in possession of the question.
[Sidenote: THE COMMITTEE OF FOUR]
An unpublished paper of Lord Durham's, in the possession of the present
Earl, throws passing light on the action, at this juncture, of the
Ministry, and therefore it may be well to quote it. 'Shortly after the
formation of the Government, Lord Grey asked me in the House of Lords if
I would assist him in preparing the Reform Bill. I answered that I would
do so with the greatest pleasure. He then said, "You can have no
objection to consult Lord John Russell?" I replied, "Certainly not, but
the reverse."' In consequence of this conversation, Lord Durham goes on
to state, he placed himself in communication with Lord John, and they
together agreed to summon to their councils Sir James Graham and Lord
Duncannon. Thus the famous Committee of Four came into existence. Durham
acted as chairman, and in that capacity signed the daily minutes of the
proceedings. The meetings were held at his house in Cleveland Row, and
he there received, on behalf of Lord Grey, the various deputations from
different parts of the kingdom which were flocking up to impress their
views of the situation on the new Premier. Since the measure had of
necessity to originate in the House of Commons, and Lord John, it was
already settled, was to be its first spokesman, Lord Durham suggested
that Russell should draw up a plan. This was done, and it was carefully
discussed and amended in various directions, and eventually the measure
as finally agreed upon was submitted to Lord Grey, with a report which
Lord Durham, as chairman, drew up, and which was signed not only by him
but by his three colleagues. Lord Durham states, in speaking of the part
he took as chairman of the Committee on Reform, that Lord Grey intrusted
him with the preparation in the first instance of the measure, and that
he called to his aid the three other statesmen. He adds: 'This was no
Cabinet secret, for it was necessarily known to hundreds, Lord Grey
having referred to me all the memorials from different towns and
bodies.' Lord Durham was in advance of his colleagues on this as upon
most questions, for he took his stand on household suffrage, vote by
ballot and triennial Parliaments, and if he could have carried his
original draft of the Reform Bill that measure would have been far more
revolutionary than that which became law. His proposals in the House of
Commons in 1821 went, in fact, much further than the measure which
became law under Lord Grey.
Lord Grey announced in the Lords on February 3 that a Reform measure had
been framed and would be introduced in the House of Commons on March 1
by Lord John Russell, who, 'having advocated the cause of Parliamentary
Reform, with ability and perseverance, in days when it was not popular,
ought, in the opinion of the Administration, to be selected, now that
the cause was prosperous, to bring forward a measure of full and
efficient Reform, instead of the partial measures he had hitherto
proposed.'
[Sidenote: LEADING THE ATTACK]
Petitions in favour of Reform from all parts of the kingdom poured into
both Houses. The excitement in the country rose steadily week by week,
mingled with expressions of satisfaction that the Bill was to be
committed to the charge of such able hands. In Parliament speculations
were rife as to the scope of the measure, whilst rumours of dissension
in the Cabinet flew around the clubs. Even as late as the middle of
February, the Duke of Wellington went about predicting that the Reform
question could not be carried, and that the Grey Administration could
not stand. Ministers contrived to keep their secret uncommonly well, and
when at length the eventful day, March 1, arrived, the House of Commons
was packed by a crowd such as had scarcely been seen there in its
history. Troops of eager politicians came up from the country and waited
at all the inlets of the House, whilst the leading supporters of the
Whigs in London society gathered at dinner-parties, and anxiously
awaited intelligence from Westminster.
Lord John's speech began at six o'clock, and lasted for two hours and a
quarter. Beginning in a low voice, he proceeded gradually to unfold his
measure, greeted in turns by cheers of approval and shouts of derision.
Greville says it was ludicrous to see the faces of the members for those
places doomed to disfranchisement, as they were severally announced.
Wetherell, a typical Tory of the no-surrender school, began to take
notes as the plan was unfolded, but after various contortions and
grimaces he threw down his paper, with a look of mingled despair,
ridicule, and horror. Lord Durham, seated under the gallery, doubted the
reality of the scene passing before his eyes. 'They are mad, they are
mad!' was one of the running comments to Lord John's statement. The
Opposition, on the whole, seemed inclined to laugh out of court such
extravagant proposals, but Peel, on the contrary, looked both grave and
angry, for he saw further than most, and knew very well that boldness
was the best chance. 'Burdett and I walked home together,' states
Hobhouse, 'and agreed that there was very little chance of the measure
being carried. We thought our friends in Westminster would oppose the
ten-pound franchise.'
'I rise, sir,' Lord John commenced, 'with feelings of the deepest
anxiety to bring forward a question which, unparalleled as it is in
importance, is as unparalleled in points of difficulty. Nor is my
anxiety, in approaching this question, lessened by reflecting that on
former occasions I have brought this subject before the consideration of
the House. For if, on other occasions, I have invited the attention of
the House of Commons to this most important subject, it has been upon my
own responsibility--unaided by anyone--and involving no one in the
consequences of defeat.... But the measure which I have now to bring
forward, is a measure, not of mine but of the Government.... It is,
therefore, with the greatest anxiety that I venture to explain their
intentions to this House on a subject, the interest of which is shown by
the crowded audience who have assembled here, but still more by the deep
interest which is felt by millions out of this House, who look with
anxiety, with hope, and with expectation, to the result of this day's
debate.'
[Sidenote: OLD SARUM VERSUS MANCHESTER]
In the course of his argument, setting forth the need of Reform, he
alluded to the feelings of a foreigner, having heard of British wealth,
civilisation, and renown, coming to England to examine our institutions.
'Would not such a foreigner be much astonished if he were taken to a
green mound, and informed that it sent two members to the British
Parliament; if he were shown a stone wall, and told that it also sent
two members to the British Parliament; or, if he walked into a park,
without the vestige of a dwelling, and was told that it, too, sent two
members to the British Parliament? But if he were surprised at this, how
much more would he be astonished if he were carried into the North of
England, where he would see large flourishing towns, full of trade,
activity, and intelligence, vast magazines of wealth and manufactures,
and were told that these places sent no representatives to Parliament.
But his wonder would not end here; he would be astonished if he were
carried to such a place as Liverpool, and were there told that he might
see a specimen of a popular election, what would be the result? He would
see bribery employed in the most unblushing manner, he would see every
voter receiving a number of guineas in a box as the price of his
corruption; and after such a spectacle would he not be indeed surprised
that representatives so chosen could possibly perform the functions of
legislators, or enjoy respect in any degree?' In speaking of the reasons
for giving representatives to Manchester, Leeds, Birmingham, and other
large towns, Lord John argued: 'Because Old Sarum sent members to
Parliament in the reign of Edward III., when it had a population to be
benefited by it, the Government on the same principle deprived that
forsaken place of the franchise in order to bestow the privilege where
the population was now found.'
Lord John explained that by the provisions of the bill sixty boroughs
with less than 2,000 inhabitants were to lose the franchise; forty-seven
boroughs, returning ninety-four members, were to lose one member each.
Of the seats thus placed at the disposal of the Government eight were to
be given to London, thirty-four to large towns, fifty-five to English
counties, five to Scotland, three to Ireland, and one to Wales. The
franchise was to be extended to inhabitants of houses rated at ten
pounds a year, and to leaseholders and copyholders of counties. It was
reckoned that about half a million persons would be enfranchised by the
bill; but the number of members in the House would be reduced by
sixty-two. Lord John laid significant stress on the fact that they had
come to the deliberate opinion that 'no half-measures would be
sufficient, that no trifling, no paltry reform could give stability to
the Crown, strength to the Parliament, or satisfaction to the country.'
Long afterwards Lord John Russell declared that the measure when thus
first placed before the House of Commons awoke feelings of astonishment
mingled with joy or with consternation according to the temper of the
hearers. 'Some, perhaps many, thought that the measure was a prelude to
civil war, which, in point of fact, it averted. But incredulity was the
prevailing feeling, both among the moderate Whigs and the great mass of
the Tories. The Radicals alone were delighted and triumphant. Joseph
Hume, whom I met in the streets a day or two afterwards, assured me of
his hearty support of the Government.' There were many Radicals,
however, who thought that the measure scarcely went far enough, and one
of them happily summed up the situation by saying that, although the
Reform Bill did not give the people all they wanted, it broke up the old
system and took the weapons from the hands of the enemies of progress.
[Sidenote: CAPITULATION OR BOMBARDMENT]
Night after night the debate proceeded, and it became plain that the
Tories had been completely taken by surprise. Meanwhile outside the
House of Commons the people followed the debate with feverish interest.
'Nothing talked of, thought of, dreamt of but Reform,' wrote Greville.
'Every creature one meets asks, "What is said now? How will it go? What
is the last news? What do you think?" And so it is from morning till
night, in the streets, in the clubs, and in private houses.' After a
week of controversy, leave was given to bring in the bill. On March 21,
Lord John moved the second reading, but was met by an amendment, that
the Reform Bill be read a second time that day six months. The House
divided at three o'clock on the morning of the 23rd, and the second
reading was carried by a majority of one--333-332--in the fullest House
on record. 'It is better to capitulate than to be taken by storm,' was
the comment of one of the cynics of the hour. Illuminations took place
all over the country. The people were good-humoured but determined, and
the Opposition began to recover from its fright and to declare that the
Government could not proceed with the measure and were certain to
resign. Peel's action--and sometimes his lack of it--was severely
criticised by many of his own followers, and not a few of the Tories,
unable to forgive the surrender to the claims of the Catholics, met the
new crisis in the time-honoured spirit of Gallio. They seemed to have
thought not only that the country was fast going to the dogs, but that
under all the circumstances, it did not much matter.
Parliament met after the usual Easter recess, and on April 18 General
Gascoigne moved as an instruction to the committee that the number of
members of Parliament ought not to be diminished, and after a debate
which lasted till four o'clock in the morning the resolution was carried
in a House of 490 members by a majority of eight. The Government thus
suddenly placed in a minority saw their opportunity and took it. Lord
Grey and his colleagues had begun to realise that it was impossible for
them to carry the Reform Bill in the existing House of Commons without
modifications which would have robbed the boon of half its worth. The
Tories had made a blunder in tactics over Gascoigne's motion, and their
opponents took occasion by the forelock, with the result that, after an
extraordinary scene in the Lords, Parliament was suddenly dissolved by
the King in person. Brougham had given the people their cry, and 'the
bill, the whole bill, and nothing but the bill,' was the popular
watchword during the tumult of the General Election. On the dissolution
of Parliament the Lord Mayor sanctioned the illumination of London, and
an angry mob, forgetful of the soldier in the statesman, broke the
windows of Apsley House.
[Sidenote: THE FLOWING TIDE]
Speaking at a political meeting two days after the dissolution, Lord
John Russell said that the electors in the approaching struggle were
called on not merely to select the best men to defend their rights and
interests, but also to give a plain answer to the question, put to the
constituencies by the King in dissolving Parliament, Do you approve, aye
or no, of the principle of Reform in the representation? Right through
the length and breadth of the kingdom his words were caught up, and from
hundreds of platforms came the question, 'Reform: Aye or No?' and the
response in favour of the measure was emphatic and overwhelming. The
country was split into the opposing camps of the Reformers and
anti-Reformers, and every other question was thrust aside in the
struggle. The political unions proved themselves to be a power in the
land, and the operatives and artisans of the great manufacturing
centres, though still excluded from citizenship, left no stone unturned
to ensure the popular triumph. Lord John was pressed to stand both for
Lancashire and Devonshire; he chose the latter county, with which he
was closely associated by family traditions as well as by personal
friendships, and was triumphantly returned, with Lord Ebrington as
colleague. Even in the agricultural districts the ascendency of the old
landed families was powerless to arrest the movement, and as the results
of the elections became known it was seen that Lord Sefton had caught
the situation in his dry remark: 'The county members are tumbling about
like ninepins.' Parliament assembled in June, and it became plain at a
glance that democratic ideas were working like leaven upon public
opinion in England. In spite of rotten boroughs, close corporations, the
opposition of the majority of the territorial aristocracy, and the panic
of thousands of timid people, who imagined that the British Constitution
was imperilled, the Reformers came back in strength, and at least a
hundred who had fought the Bill in the late Parliament were shut out
from a renewal of the struggle, whilst out of eighty-two county members
that were returned, only six were hostile to Reform.
On June 24, Lord John Russell, now raised to Cabinet rank, introduced
the Second Reform Bill, which was substantially the same as the first,
and the measure was carried rapidly through its preliminary stage, and
on July 8 it passed the second reading by a majority of 136. The
Government, however, in Committee was met night after night by an
irritating cross-fire of criticism; repeated motions for adjournment
were made; there was a systematic division of labour in the task of
obstruction. In order to promote delay, the leaders of the Opposition
stood up again and again and repeated the same statements and arguments,
and often in almost the same words. 'If Mr. Speaker,' wrote Jekyll,
'outlives the Reform debate, he may defy _la grippe_ and the cholera. I
can recommend no books, for the booksellers declare nobody reads or buys
in the present fever. The newspapers are furious, the Sunday papers are
talking treason by wholesale.... Peel does all he can to make his
friends behave like gentlemen. But the nightly vulgarities of the House
of Commons furnish new reasons for Reform, and not a ray of talent
glimmers among them all. Double-distilled stupidity!'[6] In the midst of
it all Russell fell ill, worn out with fatigue and excitement, and as
the summer slipped past the people became alarmed and indignant at the
dead-lock, and in various parts of the kingdom the attitude of the
masses grew not merely restless but menacing. At length the tactics of
the Opposition were exhausted, and it was possible to report progress.
'On September 7,' is Lord John's statement, 'the debate was closed, and
after much labour, and considerable sacrifice of health, I was able on
that night to propose, amid much cheering, that the bill should be
reported to the House.' The third reading was carried on September 19 by
a majority of fifty-five. Three days later, at five in the morning on
September 22, the question was at length put, and in a House of five
hundred and eighty-one members the majority for Ministers was one
hundred and nine.
[Sidenote: LORD GREY ARISES TO THE OCCASION]
The bill was promptly sent up to the Peers, and Lord Grey proposed the
second reading on October 3 in a speech of sustained eloquence. Lord
Grey spoke as if he felt the occasion to be the most critical event in a
political career which had extended to nearly half a century. He struck
at once the right key-note, the gravity of the situation, the magnitude
of the issues involved, the welfare of the nation. He made a modest but
dignified allusion to his own life-long association with the question.
'In 1786 I voted for Reform. I supported Mr. Pitt in his motion for
shortening the duration of Parliaments. I gave my best assistance to the
measure of Reform introduced by Mr. Flood before the French
Revolution.[7] On one or two occasions I originated motions on the
subject.' Then he turned abruptly from his own personal association with
the subject to what he finely termed the 'mighty interests of the
State,' and the course which Ministers felt they must take if they were
to meet the demands of justice, and not to imperil the safety of the
nation. He laid stress on the general discontent which prevailed, on the
political agitation of the last twelve months, on the distress that
reigned in the manufacturing districts, on the influence of the numerous
political associations which had grown powerful because of that
distress, on the suffering of the agricultural population, on the
'nightly alarms, burnings, and popular disturbances,' as well as on the
'general feeling of doubt and apprehension observable in every
countenance.' He endeavoured to show that the measure was not
revolutionary in spirit or subversive of the British Constitution, as
many people proclaimed.
Lord Grey contended that there was nothing in the measure that was not
founded on the principles of English government, nothing that was not
perfectly consistent with the ancient practices of the Constitution, and
nothing that might not be adopted with absolute safety to the rights and
privileges of all orders of the State. He made a scathing allusion to
the 'gross and scandalous corruption practised without disguise' at
elections, and he declared that the sale of seats in the House of
Commons was a matter of equal notoriety with the return of nominees of
noble and wealthy persons to that House. He laid stress on the fact that
a few individuals under the existing system were able to turn into a
means of personal profit privileges which had been conferred in past
centuries for the benefit of the nation. 'It is with these views that
the Government has considered that the boroughs which are called
nomination boroughs ought to be abolished. In looking at these boroughs,
we found that some of them were incapable of correction, for it is
impossible to extend their constituency. Some of them consisted only of
the sites of ancient boroughs, which, however, might perhaps in former
times have been very fit places to return members to Parliament; in
others, the constituency was insignificantly small, and from their local
situation incapable of receiving any increase; so that, upon the whole,
this gangrene of our representative system bade defiance to all remedies
but that of excision.'
After several nights' debate, in which Brougham, according to Lord John,
delivered one of the greatest speeches ever heard in the House of Lords,
the bill was at length rejected, after an all-night sitting, at twenty
minutes past six o'clock on Saturday morning, October 8, by a majority
of forty-one (199 to 158), in which majority were twenty-one bishops.
Had these prelates voted the other way, the bill would have passed the
second reading. As the carriages of the nobility rattled through the
streets at daybreak, artisans and labourers trudging to their work
learnt with indignation that the demands of the people had been treated
with characteristic contempt by the Peers.
[Sidenote: THE NATION GROWS INDIGNANT]
The next few days were full of wild excitement. The people were
exasperated, and their attitude grew suddenly menacing. Even those who
had hitherto remained calm and almost apathetic grew indignant. Wild
threats prevailed, and it seemed as if there might be at any moment a
general outbreak of violence. Even as it was, riots of the most
disquieting kind took place at Bristol, Derby, and other places.
Nottingham Castle was burnt down by an infuriated mob; newspapers
appeared in mourning; the bells of some of the churches rang muffled
peals; the Marquis of Londonderry and other Peers who had made
themselves peculiarly obnoxious were assaulted in the streets; and the
Bishops could not stir abroad without being followed by the jeers and
execrations of the multitude. Quiet middle-class people talked of
refusing to pay the taxes, and showed unmistakably that they had caught
the revolutionary spirit of the hour. Birmingham, which was the
head-quarters of the Political Union, held a vast open-air meeting, at
which one hundred and fifty thousand people were present, and
resolutions were passed, beseeching the King to create as many new Peers
as might be necessary to ensure the triumph of Reform. Lord Althorp and
Lord John Russell were publicly thanked at this gathering for their
action, and the reply of the latter is historic: 'Our prospects are
obscured for a moment, but, I trust, only for a moment; it is impossible
that the whisper of a faction should prevail against the voice of a
nation.'
Meanwhile Lord Ebrington, Lord John's colleague in the representation of
Devonshire, came to the rescue of the Government with a vote of
confidence, which was carried by a sweeping majority. Two days later, on
Wednesday, October 12, many of the shops of the metropolis were closed
in token of political mourning, and on that day sixty thousand men
marched in procession to St. James's Palace, bearing a petition to the
King in favour of the retention of the Grey Administration. Hume
presented it, and when he returned to the waiting crowd in the Park, he
was able to tell them that their prayer would not pass unheeded. No
wonder that Croker wrote shortly afterwards: 'The four M's--the Monarch,
the Ministry, the Members, and the Multitude--all against us. The King
stands on his Government, the Government on the House of Commons, the
House of Commons on the people. How can we attack a line thus linked and
supported?' Indignation meetings were held in all parts of the country,
and at one of them, held at Taunton, Sydney Smith delivered the famous
speech in which he compared the attempt of the House of Lords to
restrain the rising tide of Democracy to the frantic but futile battle
which Dame Partington waged with her mop, during a storm at Sidmouth,
when the Atlantic invaded her threshold. 'The Atlantic was roused. Mrs.
Partington's spirit was up. But I need not tell you that the contest was
unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. Gentlemen, be at your
ease, be quiet and steady; you will beat--Mrs. Partington.' The
newspapers carried the witty allusion everywhere. It tickled the public
fancy, and did much to relax the bitter mood of the nation, and
vapouring heroics were forgotten in laughter, and indignation gave way
to amused contempt.
Parliament, which had been prorogued towards the end of October,
reassembled in the first week of December, and on the 12th of that month
Lord John once more introduced--for the third time in twelve months--the
Reform Bill. A few alterations had been made in its text, the outcome
chiefly of the facts which the new census had brought to light. In order
to meet certain anomalies in the original scheme, Ministers, with the
help of Thomas Drummond, who shortly afterwards honourably distinguished
himself in Irish affairs, drew up two lists of boroughs, one for total
disenfranchisement and the other for semi-disenfranchisement; and the
principle on which fifty-six towns were included in the first list, and
thirty in the second, was determined by the number of houses in each
borough and the value of the assessed taxes. Six days later the second
reading was passed, after three nights' discussion, by a majority of 324
to 162. The House rose immediately for the Christmas recess, and on
January 20 the bill reached the committee stage, and there it remained
till March 14. The third reading took place on March 23, and the bill
was passed by a majority of 116. Althorp, as the leader of the Commons,
and Russell, as the Minister in charge of the measure, carried the
Reform Bill promptly to the House of Lords, and made formal request for
the 'concurrence of their lordships to the same.' Other men had laboured
to bring about this result; but the nation felt that, but for the pluck
and persistency of Russell, and the judgment and tact of Althorp,
failure would have attended their efforts.
[Sidenote: LORD ALTHORP'S TACT]
It is difficult now to understand the secret of the influence which
Althorp wielded in the Grey Administration, but it was great enough to
lead the Premier to ask him to accept a peerage, in order--in the crisis
which was now at hand--to bring the Lords to their senses. Althorp was
in no sense of the word a great statesman; in fact, his career was the
triumph of character rather than capacity. All through the struggle,
when controversy grew furious and passion rose high, Althorp kept a cool
head, and his adroitness in conciliatory speech was remarkable. He was a
moderate man, who never failed to do justice to his opponent's case, and
his influence was not merely in the Commons; it made itself felt to
good purpose in the Court, as well as in the country. He was a man of
chivalrous instincts and unchallenged probity. It was one of his
political opponents, Sir Henry Hardinge, who exclaimed, 'Althorp carried
the bill. His fine temper did it!'
Lord John Russell, like his colleagues, was fully alive to the gravity
of the crisis. He made no secret of his conviction that, if another
deadlock arose, the consequence would be bloodshed, and the outbreak of
a conflict in which the British Constitution would probably perish.
Twelve months before, the cry in the country had been, 'What will the
Lords do?' but now an altogether different question was on men's lips,
'What must be done with the Lords?' Government knew that the real
struggle over the bill would be in Committee, and therefore they refused
to be unduly elated when the second reading was carried on April 14 with
a majority of nine, in spite of the Duke of Wellington's blustering
heroics. Three weeks later, Lord Lyndhurst carried, by a majority of
thirty-five, a motion for the mutilation of the bill, in spite of Lord
Grey's assurance that it dealt a fatal blow at the measure. The Premier
immediately moved the adjournment of the debate, and the situation grew
suddenly dramatic. The Cabinet had made its last concession; Ministers
determined, in Lord Durham's words, that a 'sufficient creation of Peers
was absolutely necessary' if their resignation was not to take immediate
effect, and they laid their views before the King. William IV., like his
predecessor, lived in a narrow world; he was surrounded by gossips who
played upon his fears of revolution, and took care to appeal to his
prejudices. His zeal for Reform had already cooled, and Queen Adelaide
was hostile to Lord Grey's measure.
When, therefore, Lord Grey and Lord Brougham went down to Windsor to
urge the creation of new Peers, they met with a chilling reception. The
King refused his sanction, and the Ministry had no other alternative
than to resign. William IV. took counsel with Lord Lyndhurst, and
summoned the Duke of Wellington. Meanwhile the House of Commons at the
instance of Lord Ebrington, again passed a vote of confidence in the
Grey Administration, and adopted an address to His Majesty, begging him
to call to his councils such persons only as 'will carry into effect
unimpaired in all its essential provisions that bill for reforming the
representation of the people which has recently passed the House of
Commons.' Wellington tried to form a Ministry in order to carry out some
emasculated scheme of Reform, but Peel was inexorable, and refused to
have part or lot in the project.
[Sidenote: THE FIERCE CRY OF THE STREETS]
Meanwhile the cry rang through the country, 'The bill, the whole bill,
and nothing but the bill!' William IV. was hissed as he passed through
the streets, and the walls blazed with insulting lampoons and
caricatures. Signboards which displayed the King's portrait were framed
with crape, and Queen Adelaide's likeness was disfigured with lampblack.
Rumours of projected riots filled the town, and whispers of a plot for
seizing the wives and children of the aristocracy led the authorities to
order the swords of the Scots Greys to be rough-sharpened. At the last
moment, when the attitude of the country was menacing, the King yielded,
on May 17, and sent for Lord Grey. 'Only think,' wrote Joseph Parkes on
May 18, 'that at three yesterday all was gloomy foreboding in the
Cabinet, and at twenty-five minutes before five last night Lord Althorp
did not know the King's answer till Lord Grey returned at half-past
five--"All right." Thus on the decision of one man rests the fate of
nations.'[8]
Instead of creating new Peers, the King addressed a letter to members of
the House of Lords who were hostile to the bill, urging them to withdraw
their opposition. A hint from Windsor went further with the aristocracy
in those days than any number of appeals, reasonable or just, from the
country. About a hundred of the Peers, in angry sullen mood, shook off
the dust of Westminster, and, in Lord John's words, 'skulked in clubs
and country houses.' Sindbad, to borrow Albany Fonblanque's vigorous
simile, was getting rid of the old man of the sea, not permanently,
alas! but at least for the occasion. During the progress of these
negotiations, the nation, now confident of victory, stood not merely at
attention but on the alert. 'I say,' exclaimed Attwood at
Birmingham--and the phrase expressed the situation--'the people of
England stand at this moment like greyhounds on the slip!' Triumph was
only a matter of time. 'Pray beg of Lord Grey to keep well,' wrote
Sydney Smith to the Countess; 'I have no doubt of a favourable issue. I
see an open sea beyond the icebergs.' At length the open sea was
reached, and on June 7 the Reform Bill received the Royal Assent and
became the law of the land, and with it the era of government by public
opinion began. The mode by which the country at last obtained this great
measure of redress did not commend itself to Lord John's judgment. He
did not disguise his opinion that the creation of many new Peers
favourable to Reform would have been a more dignified proceeding than
the request from Windsor to noble lords to dissemble and cloak their
disappointment. 'Whether twelve or one hundred be the number requisite
to enable the Peers to give their votes in conformity with public
opinion,' were his words, 'it seems to me that the House of Lords,
sympathising with the people at large, and acting in concurrence with
the enlightened state of the prevailing wish, represents far better the
dignity of the House, and its share in legislation, than a majority got
together by the long supremacy of one party in the State, eager to show
its ill-will by rejecting bills of small importance, but afraid to
appear, and skulking in clubs and country houses, in face of a measure
which has attracted the ardent sympathy of public opinion.'
[Sidenote: BOWING BEFORE THE STORM]
'God may and, I hope, will forgive you for this bill,' was Lord
Sidmouth's plaintive lament to Earl Grey, 'but I do not think I ever
can!' There lives no record of reply. The last protest of the Duke of
Wellington, delivered just before the measure became law, was
characteristic in many respects, and not least in its blunt honesty.
'Reform, my lords, has triumphed, the barriers of the Constitution are
broken down, the waters of destruction have burst the gates of the
temple, and the tempest begins to howl. Who can say where its course
should stop? who can stay its speed? For my own part, I earnestly hope
that my predictions may not be fulfilled, and that my country may not be
ruined by the measure which the noble earl and his colleagues have
sanctioned.' Lord John Russell, on the contrary, held then the view
which he afterwards expressed: 'It is the right of a people to represent
its grievances: it is the business of a statesman to devise remedies.'
In the first quarter of the present century the people made their
grievances known. Lord Grey and his Cabinet in 1831-2 devised remedies,
and, in Lord John's memorable phrase, 'popular enthusiasm rose in its
strength and converted them into law.'
The Reform Bill, as Walter Bagehot has shown, did nothing to remove the
worst evils from which the nation suffered, for the simple reason that
those evils were not political but economical. But if it left
unchallenged the reign of protection and much else in the way of
palpable and glaring injustice, it ushered in a new temper in regard to
public questions. It recognised the new conditions of English society,
and gave the mercantile and manufacturing classes, with their wealth,
intelligence, and energy, not only the consciousness of power, but the
sense of responsibility.
[Sidenote: A GENEROUS TRIBUTE]
The political struggle under Pitt had been between the aristocracy and
the monarchy, but that under Grey was between the aristocracy and the
middle classes, for the claims of the democracy in the broad sense of
the word lay outside the scope of the measure. In spite of its halting
confidence in the people, men felt that former things of harsh
oppression had passed away, and that the Reform Bill rendered their
return impossible. It was at best only a half measure, but it broke the
old exclusive traditions and diminished to a remarkable degree the power
of the landed interest in Parliament. It has been said that it was the
business of Lord John Russell at that crisis to save England from
copying the example of the French Revolution, and there can be no doubt
whatever that the measure was a safety-valve at a moment when political
excitement assumed a menacing form. The public rejoicings were inspired
as much by hope as by gladness. A new era had dawned, the will of the
nation had prevailed, the spirit of progress was abroad, and the
multitudes knew that other reforms less showy perhaps but not less
substantial, were at hand. 'Look at England before the Reform Bill, and
look at it now,' wrote Mr. Froude in 1874. 'Its population almost
doubled; its commerce quadrupled; every individual in the kingdom lifted
to a high level of comfort and intelligence--the speed quickening every
year; the advance so enormous, the increase so splendid, that language
turns to rhetoric in describing it.' When due allowance is made for the
rhetoric of such a description--for alas! the 'high level of comfort'
for every individual in the kingdom is still unattained--the substantial
truth of such a statement cannot be gainsaid. When the battle was
fought, Lord John was generous enough to say that the success of the
Reform Bill in the House of Commons was due mainly to the confidence
felt in the integrity and sound judgment of Lord Althorp. At the same
time he never concealed his conviction that it was the multitude outside
who made the measure resistless.
FOOTNOTES:
[6] _Correspondence of Mr. Joseph Jekyll_, 1818-1838. Edited, with a
brief Memoir, by the Hon. Algernon Bourke. Pp. 272-273.
[7] Flood's Reform proposals were made in 1790. His idea was to augment
the House of Commons by one hundred members, to be elected by the
resident householders of every county.
[8] _Life of George Grote_, by Mrs. Grote, p. 80.